


(Nourishment 11) Vitamins and Minerals

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Humor, M/F - Category, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-09-13
Updated: 2002-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-01 09:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/355101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That would be telling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Nourishment 11) Vitamins and Minerals

## (Nourishment 11) Vitamins and Minerals

by Janet F. Caires-Lesgold

<http://jfc.freeshell.org/stories.html>

* * *

Title: VITAMINS AND MINERALS (Nourishment 11) Author: Janet F. Caires-Lesgold  
Feedback to: jfc013@merle.it.northwestern.edu Archive: Mailing list archives only--others please ask permission! Category: Humorous smut (in response to Jenn and Te's "Pornotopia" challenge) Spoilers: None, I imagine--set before "Stray" Rating: NC-17 for language and general gettin' busy Pairing: Clark/Lex established relationship; otherwise, anything goes! Summary: That would be telling... 

DISCLAIMER: The characters that you recognize do not belong to me. Smallville is the property of Alfred Gough, Miles Millar, Tollin-Robbins Productions, and Warner Bros. Television, and based upon characters originally created by Jerome Siegel and Joe Shuster. This story is just for the entertainment of my online friends and myself, not for any profit. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The rest of "The Nourishment Series" can be elsewhere on this archive - You don't have to read them all first, but it might help. 

DEDICATION: For Tiff, Jenn, and Te, who deserve more than I could possibly give. 
    
    
    COPYRIGHT:  (C) Janet F. Caires-Lesgold         May 18, 2002
                    jfc013@merle.it.northwestern.edu
    

Please don't redistribute or alter this story in any way without the express permission of the author. Thank you very much. 

* * *

Clark had the flu. 

At least that was my less-than-expert diagnosis for how crappy he'd claimed to feel the previous few days. He hadn't even felt up to coming over for some loving attention, which usually perked him up when he'd had a bad day. I'd been reduced to mutual masturbation over the phone with him late at night, as if we were _both_ still horny teenage boys. 

My unschooled assessment was supported by the phone call. "Mr. Luthor?" asked an unfamiliar female voice apparently unused to pronouncing my name politely. 

"Yes? Who is this?" 

"My name is Darcy Feldman--I'm a classmate of Clark's, and he wanted me to call you..." 

I set aside the payroll estimates that were making my eyes cross. "Yes, Miss Feldman, how can I help you?" 

"Well," she hesitated, "Can you come over to his house? I've brought him home because he wasn't feeling well, and there doesn't seem to be anyone here. I really need to get back to school--I've got a chemistry midterm in forty-five minutes--so he had me call you." 

My jacket was already half-on as I buzzed the garage for one of my faster cars to be brought around to the front of the house. "Is he all right? What's wrong?" I asked, trying not to panic. 

"He threw up in the middle of biology lab, and he had me pull over once on the way here to do it again--I'm not really sure." 

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," I promised, hanging up, then sprinted out to the drive just as my Porsche pulled up. 

I made it in twelve, thanking the gods for the light traffic of the Kansas two-lanes in the middle of the day. A young lady with green hair and a pentacle necklace met me at the Kents' back door. 

"You must be Darcy," I surmised as she ushered me inside. 

"Yeah," she replied in a remarkable combination of being awestruck at meeting me in the flesh and chewing gum like she didn't even know I was there. "I'm Clark's lab partner, and I didn't want to leave him alone. He looks pretty miserable..." she added, pointing upstairs. "I hope you don't mind me bothering you at work, Mr. Luthor..." 

"Nonsense. Clark needs me, so I'm here. Run along to school, Darcy, and thank you for getting in touch with me. Does Clark have your number in case he needs to get his biology homework later?" 

She actually blushed, not nearly as attractively as Clark. "I sure hope so!" she grinned, scooping up a jangly set of car keys and a purse large enough to smuggle a sheep in before she breezed out the door. 

Taking the steps two at a time, I made my way to the upstairs hallway. Water was running behind a white-painted door, so I waited quietly outside. At last the door opened, revealing a shirtless Clark, smelling of fresh toothpaste. His face was pale, almost grey-green, and his eyes brightened only slightly when he saw me there. "Lex!" he exclaimed weakly. 

I grabbed him gently in a hug and petted his sweaty hair for a moment. "Are you okay, Clark?" 

"I feel like hell," he admitted as he broke away and moved to his bedroom. Noting my glance at his bare chest, he explained, "I nailed my shirt pretty good, so I washed it out... I really don't know what's wrong: I'm usually never sick, or never for this long. I'm glad you're here. It makes me feel a little better just to see you." He lowered his eyes shyly, then glanced back up at me prettily through his lashes. "Could I ask you a favor? Can you stay with me? I think I want to sleep for awhile..." 

There was no way I could refuse such a sweet request. "Sure, baby--anything. Do you want me to go get a bucket or something?" I asked as he kicked off his shoes and settled into bed. 

"In case I puke again? Yeah... There should be one in the cabinet under the stairs in the kitchen... And thank you, Lex. I love you." 

I tucked him under his quilt, brushing his bangs out of his eyes and pressing my lips softly against his clammy forehead. "I love you, too, Clark. Get some sleep." 

Once I was sure he didn't need me immediately, I slipped out of his door and back downstairs. However, the kitchen was not quite as empty as I had been expecting it to be. 

There, leaning against the counter next to the sink, stood Jonathan and Martha Kent, him close behind her with his hands gripping her shoulders tightly. I was about to mention their son lying ill upstairs until I noticed the odd hitch of her skirt and the unmistakable motion of his hips. He grunted like a rutting hog, matching her throaty moan on every thrust. Deciding not to interrupt, I opened the cabinet door as quietly as I could and borrowed the bucket to take back to Clark. It was funny to me that I found the thought of Clark's parents engaging in a little midday coupling rather sentimental, whereas had it been my father and one of his pieces, I'd have considered it fairly disgusting. Oh well--I guess context is everything. 

When I got back to Clark's room, I chose not to bother his computer, instead finding a book of baseball stories to amuse myself while I sat in his desk chair and kept an eye on him. He slept soundly, so I stole fond glances of him whenever I turned the page. So beautiful--I may have done some less-than-honorable things when I was his age, but somehow I had been redeemed enough to deserve the love of this handsome boy with a pure, unbesmirched soul. Grinning to myself, I went back to my reading. 

Exactly two hours and seventeen minutes after he'd fallen asleep, Clark began to stir, so I moved to sit on the edge of his bed in case he needed me. He blinked a little, momentarily disoriented, but smiled sheepishly when he noticed me there. "Hey," I greeted him quietly. "How are you feeling?" 

"Better, definitely. What time is it?" 

"Quarter to three. Do you want to sleep some more?" 

"No," he groaned, scooting back against his pillows to sit up. "If I do, I'll never get to sleep tonight." 

Cupping his distinctly rosier cheek in my hand, I teased, "I'm sure I can think of some activity that will help you sleep." 

I could tell his health was improving by the coy roll of his eyes. "Oh, I'm sure you could, Lex. I'm sorry to drag you away from work like this. I hope it wasn't too important." 

As I leaned in to kiss him on the temple, I chided, " _Nothing_ is more important than you are to me, Clark." 

That earned me a brilliant smile, which was wonderful to see. "Have you seen my folks? Did they come home while I was asleep?" 

My mind's eye showed me a quick shot of the farmhouse porn to which I'd been the unwitting audience earlier. "Um, yeah, but I didn't get the chance to talk to them." 

"Why not?" he asked, throwing back the covers and reaching for his shoes. 

"They were, uh, busy." 

"Busy?" 

"Up-against-the-kitchen-sink busy. I thought it best not to disturb them." 

Cringing as only a teenage boy can at the thought of his parents enjoying marital relations, he wondered, "In the middle of the day? That's weird." He pointed to his open closet door. "Do you see that red sweater hanging on that hook? Could you please hand it to me?" I did so, then stood back to allow him room to pull it on. When his head popped out of the neck of the garment, his expression was thoughtful. 

"Is something wrong?" 

"I just remembered--when Darcy and I had gone to the nurse's office to get a permission slip for her to drive me home, something else weird happened. We didn't think the nurse was there when we arrived, but then she came out of the clinic washroom, and the tennis coach came out with her... He looked kind of giggly and embarrassed, and he was adjusting his clothes, now that I think of it, then he left _really_ fast." 

"You mean you think she'd been blowing him in there?" 

"Maybe--I didn't think anything of it at the time, since I was trying really hard not to upchuck again, but that might explain just how red the nurse was blushing when she saw us there..." 

"Hmmm..." I pondered, "adults enjoying each other's company. That _is_ strange." 

"Lex," he chided in an adorable whine, "we're talking about multiple instances of responsible people just dropping everything to have sex." 

"Oh, because people _never_ do that," I teased, picturing myself yanking off Clark's jeans, throwing him across his recently-vacated bed, and having my way with him on the spot. The roll of his eyes indicated that my message had been received loud and clear. "So, what do you want to do now?" 

"Actually," he began, leading me out the door, "I really need to see Chloe to get her notes from American Lit class, so if you don't mind driving me over to school..." 

Stopping where I stood, I scolded my lover with a stern frown. "Wait a minute. Do you feel well enough to go out already?" 

He thought about this for a minute, as if running a quick diagnostic. "Yes. Yes, I do. Besides," he went on, "it'll only be for a little while. Please?" 

"If you're sure," I consented. "Just remember, I'll get really pissed if you get sick in the Porsche." 

"Okay," he agreed, preceding me down the stairs and out through the kitchen, which was empty once again. "And don't kill me, but I left my backpack in my locker..." he admitted sotto voce. 

It was my turn to roll my eyes as we left the house and headed out to my car. 

Clark must have been feeling much better, as he chattered easily about nothing in particular all the way to school. The schoolyard was emptying quickly, classes being finished for the day, according to Clark. I parked the Porsche and walked my lover to the building, stopping at a soda machine to buy him a ginger ale, just in case. Next we paused at his locker so he could retrieve his backpack, then on to the Torch office to touch base with Chloe. 

I lagged back a pace to grab a long sip from the drinking fountain, then followed Clark into the newspaper office. My eye was drawn to Chloe's "Wall of Weird" display, but I could hear the girls' voices somewhere in the room. 

"Oh, Chloe! I didn't _think_ you were a natural blonde!" 

"Shut up and do it already, Lana!" 

"God, I don't know _how_ long I've wanted to do this!" 

The content of their conversation, and the sultry tone with which it was being carried out, was highly suspicious, so I looked around for Clark. I stopped short when I spotted him, his eyes as big as saucers as he regarded something on the floor at his feet. 

"Lex?" he trailed off, a look of genuine panic rising on his face. "Is that..." 

Kicking at the small garment with the toe of my shoe, I made a positive I.D. "Yup. One pair of pink cotton bikini panties." 

Just then the air was pierced with a deliciously heated female groan. I followed the sound to the gap under a couple of desks near the back of the room. What I found there caused my jaw to drop and almost made me want to cover Clark's unbelieving eyes, but it was too late--he'd already seen it. 

There, sprawled on the ugly carpeting, with her head tossed back in sexual abandon, was Torch Editor Chloe Sullivan, while between her widely-spread legs bobbed the raven hair of Head Cheerleader Lana Lang, going down on the girl like there was no tomorrow and with one hand working overtime in her own panties. 

Clark, looking seriously confused, glanced nervously between the floor show and me, blushing so hard I thought the top of his head might catch fire. I, on the other hand, decided to stand back and watch them finish, loath to pass up this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. 

"Oh, God, Lana!" Chloe cried out. "I'm gonna... Oh, Lana! Oh, Lana!" Suddenly her eyes flew open and fell immediately upon her audience. "Oh, God! Clark???" I would have laughed at her expression of shock and horror, but I was too damned turned on to do anything but grin stupidly. 

Lana's head popped up from Chloe's sex with a similar look of embarrassment, as she exclaimed, "Clark!" and just barely missed colliding with the underside of the desk. 

I chose to ignore the fact that they'd both missed me standing right there, and grabbed a pencil off of a nearby desk to hoist Chloe's underwear from the floor like a piece of evidence at a crime scene. "I believe these are _yours_ , Miss Sullivan," I teased, handing them to her on the end of the pencil. 

Clark had flopped in one of the office chairs with a stunned stare, chugging half of his ginger ale in one swig. The girls hurriedly rearranged their clothes and crawled out from under the desk fumbling for words. 

"Lex... Clark... I am _soooo_ sorry!" Chloe apologized at last. "I've never done anything like this before! I don't know what came over us!" Her voice trailed off as she regarded Clark surreptitiously, looking as if she were going to cry, though whether from mortification at being discovered or mere frustration at being left unsatisfied I couldn't quite tell. 

Lana, her smeared lipstick matching the smudge on Chloe's mouth, sat at an unoccupied desk, panting a little and chanting "Oh, God! Oh, God!" under her breath as if she'd just gotten arrested for the first time. 

"Are you girls all right?" I asked finally. "You must admit that this behavior is rather, um, unexpected, wouldn't you say?" 

"Yeah," added Clark, who was starting to look less like he was reviewing every second of an instant replay in his head frame by frame and more merely curious as to what had happened. "Y'know, I'm starting to wonder if there isn't something in the water... I mean _how_ many people does this make who were overcome with undeniable urges to, uh..." 

"What, make a little mattress music?" I snickered, noticing just how tight my suit pants were starting to feel. 

"Wait a minute..." interrupted Chloe. "I _was_ really thirsty earlier... Maybe it _is_ the water... Doesn't Darcy Feldman's dad work for the water company, and didn't she say something about dabbling in white magic?" 

Just then, someone quite pointedly and audibly ran away from the door to the Torch office. After exchanging looks with all of us, Chloe bolted out of the room, with Clark and me following closely behind, and Lana, refusing to meet anyone's eye, bringing up the rear. 

Out in the hall, my attention was grabbed by the jangle of a large set of keys, and I looked up to see a girl with green hair duck around the corner. "Darcy?" I called after her. 

"Stop her!" cried Chloe, taking off at a run. The girls sped off in one direction, but I'd lost sight of our suspect. 

"Let's try down by the gym," suggested Clark, who trotted away carefully so as not to lose me, even though I was having a little trouble running very fast at the moment, being rather hard all of a sudden. 

When I caught up to him, he was holding the boys' locker room door open for me, saying, "Come on! I know a shortcut through here!" so I followed him inside, not quite sure what we would find. Rounding a bank of lockers, I skidded a little on the steam-damp linoleum and ran smack into Clark, forcing a pained gasp out of me with the impact of my hard-on against his tightly jeans-clad butt, as he stood aghast at the door to the showers. 

Under the shower spray was a veritable orgy of football players. We observed maybe twenty large high school men, all naked, all wet, and all completely focused on sexual congress of one kind or another. I could see some fellows fucking up against the tiled wall, while others crouched on their knees near the drains giving blowjobs as if their lives depended on it. Before my legs gave out from sheer erotic overload, I grabbed onto Clark's arm and held on tight in an attempt to hold myself upright. 

A familiar-looking tall blond man on his hands and knees off to one side threw back his head in ecstasy as a smaller black man feasted away on his backside. "Say--isn't that Whitney? And Pete?" I pointed out to my lover as we squinted through the mist. 

"Oh, my God!" sighed Clark, who apparently wasn't enjoying the main attraction even half as much as I was. "Let's get out of here before they see us!" He spun and effectively dragged me out of the locker room back into the hall, as I never let go of his arm. 

Fortunately, Chloe and Lana were turning the corner toward us at that very moment, their apprehended suspect grasped between them. "There you are!" announced Chloe. "We found her." The guilty-looking green-haired girl was shoved in front of us as Chloe urged her, "Go on. Tell them what you did." 

"I put a couple of these in the school's water supply," the culprit confessed dully as she reluctantly held out her hand. In it was a net bag containing fragrant herbs and rocks with a telltale green shimmer. Clark took one look at it and shied away as if from a bad smell, breaking out of my grasp easily and backing down the hall with the same pallor as he'd worn when I'd first run into him coming out of his bathroom back home. Suddenly I remembered his violent revulsion to the meteor rock that I'd kept in my nightstand. 

"Great," I said, looking over the parcel with a wary eye, "Clark here has a fairly negative reaction to those stones. So just what is that thing, and why shouldn't I call the police to arrest you for endangering my friend with it?" 

"It's an aphrodisiac sachet. I didn't mean any harm with it, really!" she flustered, obviously embarrassed at possibly injuring someone with her little prank. "Clark never paid any attention to me at all, so I just thought I'd do a spell and get a rise out of him. When the first one didn't work, I added a couple more to increase the effect. I'm really sorry I hurt anybody!" 

"Well, you certainly got a rise out of a lot of people with those things," replied Clark, still halfway down the hall. At his words, Chloe tried very hard to look innocent, and Lana just closed her eyes as if she were wishing she could disappear. 

Just then the contained roar from the locker room at our backs erupted in what could only have been a huge mutual orgasm. "What the hell was that?" asked Chloe and Lana in stereo, startled out of their artifices by the noise. 

Clark and I exchanged a glance, and choosing to be discreet, I began to usher the girls back around the corner. "Maybe the principal's still in his office," I suggested. "I'm sure he could come up with a suitable punishment once you get rid of those things." 

"Please," begged Clark bitterly. "How about some community service down at the water treatment plant? I'm sure your dad could come up with a pretty smelly job for you!" 

The girls got ahead of us on the way to the principal's office, never letting go of their little spell-caster. Once they were out of earshot, I tugged Clark's sleeve until I got him to look at me. Tipping my head toward a nearby boys' washroom, I led the way and pulled him in behind me. I checked to make sure we were alone, then locked the door to the hall, leaning my back against it and closing my eyes in divine agony. 

"What's up?" he asked, all innocence. 

"Me," I groaned without a hint of sarcasm. "Serves me right for not traveling _everywhere_ with bottled water." Grasping his arm, I pulled his hand against my erection, which was almost starting to ache. 

"God, Lex," he moaned, first flinching to feel how hard I was, then applying a little more tender pressure, "I know why I was sick now, since I've been drinking that stuff all week, but you mean to tell me that this is just from one taste from the water fountain?" 

"I think so, although the visual stimulation in this place hasn't helped a bit. Look, beautiful, have you ever given anyone a blow job?" I asked, bearing in mind the fact that he hadn't had the chance to practice on me yet. 

"No, never..." he confessed, his shy look slowly blossoming into a smile of wondrous anticipation. 

"Congratulations. You've just earned yourself a crash course," I said, pulling him closer for a wet, hard kiss, then nudging him to get down on his knees in front of me. 

He was a very fast learner, which was not surprising, given his teacher, and he followed instructions quite well. There wasn't more than a trace of hesitation to his touch as he unzipped my fly and pushed aside my underwear. I think I will always treasure the memory of his glorious smile as he looked up at me before he dived in and took me in his mouth for the first time. His tongue worked miracles on my cock as his hands moved in blessed stereo, his right on me and his left on his own penis, until we both exploded in pleasure and relief. 

As soon as he could steady his feet under himself, he stood up and kissed me deeply and sweetly, painting traces of my come and his own essence on my tongue. Before we had the chance to fasten our pants again, he drew away with a dazzling grin and asked, "Good?" 

"The best," I sighed at him, my smile threatening to eclipse his in return. One last question occurred to me as I adjusted my clothes and prepared to face the outside world again: "Say--if the water at school was the only stuff that was tainted, how do you explain your parents carrying on in the kitchen? You don't suppose they do that kind of thing on a regular basis, do you?" 

This brought him up short. For a second, he looked as if he might be sick again, but then he gave me an utterly serious glance and answered, "Lex? Don't take me there--I don't wanna go!" I chuckled at him as I held the washroom door open for him, and we both dissolved into goofy laughter on the way to the principal's office. 

Clark was feeling better at last, thank heavens, and for that matter, so was I. 

**THE END**

Author's additional note: I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to the school nurse and tennis coach for stepping in to fill in for the late, lamented Principal Kwan on such short notice! I realize that he's not pushing up the daisies just yet in this timeframe, but it didn't feel right playing with him here given his recent demise on the show. I'm just not into necrophilia, ya know? ;) 


End file.
